Prom
by Revengeful Desire
Summary: Kenny has always dreamed of the perfect prom night and believes that maybe his dream will finally become true when Kyle agrees to be his date, but what he doesn't know is people have tricks up their sleeves and are willing to do absolutely anything they to get what they want, especially when they've had him before. Enjoy and R&R, Love, Miss Desire.
1. Wonder

Kyle  
There it was: a single colorful poster advertising the upcoming school prom. Big bold pink letters formed the words "Come to your school prom!" Under the incredibly oversized printing, in somewhat smaller print, gave the date, time, and place, which was predictably in the high school gym.

Kyle wouldn't be going. He made up his mind years ago that if he went, he'd only cause trouble. The last time he showed up to a party-like atmosphere, he managed to make a complete fool out of himself. If he could avoid it, something of that caliber wouldn't happen again. Ever.

Sighing and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his favorite faded jeans, he and his lime green converse continued the walk down the sidewalk. The concrete was old and pebbly; broken and jagged from countless soles traveling the same path.

The journey to his best friend, Kenny's, house was long and always seemed to bring about adventures.

The side of the building he was passing was brick and towered above him a couple hundred feet, overwhelming his own five feet eight inches. Cracked, chipped glass fragments littered the ground from the multiple broken windows; they emanated a dark, creepy feeling. Kenny's part of town had always frightened him. He was afraid he would be mugged or raped, or worse, both. Just his imagination running rampant caused chills to roll down his spine and goose bumps to form on his exposed skin.

After a few more blocks, he eventually arrived in front of the McCormick's front yard. The house was dilapidated and falling apart. Shingles were missing from the roof, windows were broken, and the green paint was slowly chipping away. The porch was practically in shambles; it looked completely unstable by any means, but it was apparent by the welcome mat that the McCormick family ignored this fact.

Weeds and other long grasses covered the yard. Any attempt at mowing weren't noticeable. Stepping stones marked the path to the front door; they were cracked and in multiple pieces lodged into the earth. Taking this pathway, Kyle walked up and onto the ruined porch. The boards of wood creaked under his weight and shook dangerously. On wobbly legs, he stood on the welcome mat and hurriedly knocked on the door. His knuckles rapped against the chipped painted door a few times. He wanted off this piece of unstable architecture.

A few moments passed and then the door flew open to reveal a young woman in her early twenties. Her hair was long and set in a mane down her back. It was a nice light brown color. Her eyes, the color of cold ice, stared through him from behind her bangs; curious and demanding.

"Yes?" she spoke with a stern voice, eager to get the information she wanted.

"Uh yeah. Is Kenny there?"

His own voice shook in fear, but only because the porch was beginning to become more shaky with every passing moment.

"He's upstairs."

Her tone and facial expressions gave off the impression that she was suspicious.

"Can I go see him?"

"I guess so," she said as she swung the door open, admitting him into the house. ",but make it quick; he has to be down for dinner in about thirty minutes."

"Kay," he shouted as he began climbing the stairs.

The interior of the house was pretty much in the same state as the exterior. The walls were bland and peeling in some places; the floor was only a slab of concrete with a huge printed carpet covering it. A cold shiver ran up his body when he stumbled on the step at the top of the stairwell. The air was heavy and stuffy, making it hard for him to breathe. Almost as if there wasn't a ventilation system.

Loud music was playing from under one of the doors down the hall from where he was standing. Presuming the room was Kenny's, he walked down the hall and stood in front of the closed door, contemplating whether to knock or not.

Deciding to knock, he spoke, hoping his voice would carry over into the next room, "Kenny? It's Kyle. Can I come in?"

A loud ruffling sound came from the other side and then the music was cut off, leaving a dense silence.

"Come in!" Kenny's voice called, muffled by the barrier.

Turning the cold brass metal knob, the door clicked open. Kenny stood in the middle of his room, on his heels, so as to not mess up his newly painted toenails. The blonde turned around and realized who it was at the door. He looked extremely guilty; a blush plastered across his cheeks.

"Oh..It's you, Kyle. I thought you were Kayla," the blushing blonde said sheepishly. "I was just painting my toes."

He was right. Each of his toenails was painted a deep bright orange. The paint sparkled in the light of the two neighboring lamps.

"For what may I ask?" he questioned lightly, shutting the door behind him.  
"Oh, just prom. It's this Saturday," Kenny confessed, his cheeks burning a brighter red.

"I thought so. You seem like the kind of person who would want to go," he said, smiling. After a moment, however, he stopped and his smile was replaced with a definite frown that stretched from each side of his face. "I'm not going."

Kenny looked at him in a mixture of awe, incredulity, and spite. His light blue eyes twinkled, emphasizing his emotions. "Why not?"

"Because," he stammered. He immediately became extremely nervous; his heart began to beat louder and heavier. The whole situation was becoming awkward. Maybe he shouldn't have come to visit Kenny after all. "I just don't want to."

"But you have to! It's like a high school tradition. Everybody has to go to their prom; date or no," the blond duck-walked over to him and snatched his hand. He began pulling him in the general direction of his bed. The smaller teenager pushed him onto the full sized bed and continued to glare at him. He stood there, pouting. Blue eyes slightly pleaded for him to change his mind.

"Kenny," he began, but was interrupted by a rather loud, excited blonde.  
"I have an idea! Since I don't have a date, you can go with me!"

"But…"

"No buts! It's already settled. Oh, I am so excited. I can't wait!" Kenny squealed, sounding an awful like a middle school girl than a guy well on his way to adulthood. He raced around the room, careful of his orange toes, and rattled off the insignificant details he, as his date, would need to know.

Sighing and dropping his head into the palm of his right hand, he just sat there, listening, because he didn't have the guts to tell him no. 'Guess I'm going to prom after all," he thought to himself dreadfully.


	2. Nerves

Kenny  
Dressed in a formfitting black tux topped with a bright orange tie, Kenny McCormick sat on the edge of his family's ragged, faded couch in hisliving room. Excitement and nervousness rushed through his veins; his heart fluttered dangerously against his ribcage. His palms steadily grew slicker as he began to lightly sweat from nerves.

He'd been waiting for this night since he was a child in elementary school.

Ever since he'd been a child, playing dress up and barbie dolls, he'd had this dream of being whisked off to prom by a knight in shining armor. But now, instead of knight, he gets a redheaded boy with bright green eyes in faded jeans and converse. Now that he was older and had grown out of his childish antics, he really did before the redheaded boy over the knight. And because of that fact, he was nervous as all get out.

His dream was about to become a reality and that meant that his insecurities were beginning to bother him and affect his self-esteem. He didn't know why they would decide to crop up at a time like this, but now that they had, there was no way he could deny them.

Thoughts of several different possibilities crossed mind. People could make fun of him for being gay; call him names and say awful things about him and Kyle being together. Somebody could "accidentally" trip him, causing him to humiliatingly fall into the punch bowl. The juice would seep through his rented tux and ruin the elegant clothing he had saved up months to buy. Multiple things could happen tonight that could result in complete chaos and disaster.

Palms sweaty, heart hammering, and eyes watering, Kenny worked to put a hold on his emotions, reining them in and restricting their freedom. He threw them into a cage at the back of his mind and locked it with an imaginary key. He would have a great evening. He was determined not to let anybody or anything change that. If that meant pretending everything was fine, then so be it. Nothing was going to stand in between Kyle and him tonight. They were going to have fun at this dance, and then maybe later, when Kyle brings him home, he'll steal a kiss.

Bubbling with a renewed happiness, he smiled when he heard a light tap at the door.  
"I'll get it!" he called loudly, hoping the rest of the household would take it as a sign that he was leaving.

He got up and hurriedly walked to the window and peaked behind the ripped curtains. Sure enough, Kyle stood dressed in his own tux and tie on the porch. The light from the bulb outside flickered slightly when he opened the door, giving the allusion that it was about to die.

"Hey, Kenny," the redhead spoke, waving his hand absentmindedly in the air. He seemed embarrassed; a light sheen of sweat covered his forehead. His cheeks were the color of soft rose petals; dull and barely noticeable, but still there nonetheless.

"Hi, Kyle. You look cute tonight," he said as he stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. The porch wobbled slightly when he did this. Kyle's green eyes lit up in fear.

The night air was cool and had a summer like quality about it. The wind blew across his cheeks and ruffled his hair. Blonde strands flew lazily around on his head, causing him to have to bat the away from his eyes every so often.

He took Kyle's hand and led him away from the house and onto to the sidewalk, distancing them from potential prying eyes.

Kyle stared down at his shoes and shuffled his converse clad feet. In a low whisper, he said, "I'm really looking forward to tonight."

"I am too," he commented, smiling and stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.

"I brought my dad's truck with me tonight. I hope you don't mind," Kyle said, blushing and turning his face away.

"No, that'll be fine. As long as it gets us there, I don't care. I'm not picky," he said.

"I'm also wearing a borrowed tux. It's my dad's too. I couldn't afford a new one on such short notice, so I had to use his. It's old," Kyle dragged on, squishing his nose in an unattractive grimace.

In the low lighting, it was difficult to see anything more than the mere outline of Kyle's silhouette. He squinted his eyes and said in a comforting tone, " I said it doesn't matter Kyle. I rented my tux. It'll be okay. The fact that you even agreed to going with me is worth more than any expensive tux ever could. Don't worry about it."

He hugged Kyle and buried his head in the redhead's comfortable chest. When Kyle had realized what was happening, he froze. But after a few moments, the redhead took a deep breath and gave in the temptation. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. They stayed that way arms tangled around each other, for awhile until he remembered they had to leave or they would never reach prom in time.

"We need to go," he mumbled, his voice muffled.

"We should," Kyle said, "but I really don't want to."

"We can't just stand in my driveway all night," he pointed out.

"I know," Kyle sighed, pulling away only to grab his hand and lead him to the dark blue Ford truck that sat in the dusty drive. He held the passenger door open for him as he climbed inside. Once he was settled, he buckled his seat belt.

Kyle walked around the front of the vehicle and got in the driver's side behind the wheel. Putting the key in the ignition, he started the truck.

The redhead began fumbling with the dials to the radio, "Uhh..I don't know what kind of music you usually listen to, but you can pick whatever you want," he smiled, which generally caused little tiny butterflies to explode in his stomach and bounce off his insides at an uncomfortable speed and rhythm.

Kenny turned the buttons and began to surf through the different offered channels, attempting to find one worth listening to. Eventually, he settled for a rock station. The music began playing softly throughout the interior of the vehicle. It was oddly comforting for him to be sitting there with Kyle listening to music. He liked that everything seemed so easy and uncomplicated.

"I love this band," Kyle randomly commented, as he backed out of the driveway and turned onto the gravelly side road on which his house sat.

"What band is it?"

"Don't tell me you don't know who they are?" Kyle questioned, incredulous.

"I don't," Kenny said, ashamed. He switched his gaze from the side of Kyle's face and opted to watch the passing scenery instead. He was extremely embarrassed. His face began to grow warmer. He had always been the one for music, and not knowing a band kind of scared him a little.

"Hey, don't sweat it, Kenny. I was only messing with you. There's no need to feel ashamed," Kyle explained, turning down the next street. This new road was paved and the wheels rolled smoothly against the asphalt, causing a comforting motion that could put any baby to sleep. "The bands name is Bullet For My Valentine just so you know."

"Oh. It's fine, Kyle," he said, turning his face back around to look at Kyle again. "I shouldn't take words to heart. It's just a habit of mine, I guess. He smiled slightly and turned up the radio just a little bit so he could hear the words of the song that was playing. To keep his mind preoccupied, he counted the driveways as they passed them.

They eventually made it to the school and, hand in hand, they pushed open the gym doors and were ushered into the building. Maybe tonight wasn't going to turn out so bad, after all.


	3. Beautiful Experience

Stan

Stan Marsh entered the doors to the gym, arm in arm with his steady girlfriend, Wendy. They were dressed in similar outfits. She wore a pretty blue dress, while he wore a tux adorned a matching tie.

The music was loud and soul-shattering, pumping out some pop music through the many speakers that were placed throughout the large and vast area. As soon as he walked into the newly transformed and decorated gymnasium, he felt the bass reverberating throughout his chest. It sent a jolt of energy through his system. He was truly alive in this place.

"Hey, Stan. Do you want to dance?" Wendy asked, batting her eyelashes and sending him a devious grin. She grabbed his upper arm and slightly squeezed in order to get his attention.

"Wha?" he said, completely oblivious.

"Do you want to dance? With me? Your girlfriend," she repeated, looking aggravated; annoyance becoming obvious in her tone and facial expression.

"Sure," he said, nonchalantly.

Taking her hand in his, he began to lead her to the dance floor, shimmying his way through the crow. Once there, he took ahold of Wendy's slim waist and pulled her closer. She rested her hands on his chest and they began to slowly sway to the rhythm of the music. The song was slow and hypnotizing, beckoning couples to join in its quiet twangs of the guitars and the soft thumps of the drums.

The dance floor transformed from a place for rowdy reckless teens to a beautiful moment of couples' bliss. Romance reigned while the song played in the background. Couples whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears and shared in intimate conversations they wouldn't normally partake in public. It was a beautiful experience.

Pulling Wendy closer, he was able to smell the shampoo she used to wash her hair. The scent of strawberries entered his nose when he breathed deeper.

Tonight was going to be great. He just knew it.


	4. Learning New Things

Craig

*Note: I am NOT a smoker, so I kind of just went of instinct with this and Googled some of the much smaller insignificant details. Sorry if I screwed this up horribly!*

Craig lit the cigarette, making sure to shield the flame from the wind. Holding it between the fingers of his right hand, he proceeded to bring the stick to his lips, where he took the first long drag. Inhaling, the smoke filled his mouth; it tasted like burning wood.

"What are you doing out here?" an unidentified male voice spoke from his left. Taking another puff of the stick, he directed his gaze to the source of the sound.

Kenny McCormick stepped into his line of sight. He wore a worried expression that crinkled his facial features together.

"Smoking," he said nonchalantly as he pushed the smoke through his nose. It circled around his head for a few seconds before drifting away into the starry night.

"I can see that, but why, and on school property? You could be seen," he said; his tone stressed and apprehensive.

Craig flicked the ashes off onto the ground; they fluttered lazily through the air and landed on the hard stone concrete. They were small floating pinpricks of fire. Taking another long drag, Craig dropped the cigarette along with the ashes. The embers flared to life before they were quickly shushed out by the heel of his shoe.

"Why are you so concerned about me anyway?"

"I've always been concerned about you, Craig. You know that. Smoking's against the law. If you get caught-"

"I'm not going to get caught. I never do."

"Well, still."

"Just shutup, okay? You're giving me a headache," he said, angrily rubbing his temples.

The kid was bearing on his last damn nerve. Stress welled itself in his chest and he got the distinct feeling that he shouldn't have wasted the rest of that cigarette. Sliding down the solid brick wall, he settled himself against the building for support. He rested his elbows on his knees and laid his head against the side of his palm, closing his eyes and sighing dramatically.

"Hey, are you okay?" The blonde spoke, changing tactics and sounding genuinely concerned.

Craig opened one eye to see Kenny crouching on his legs in front of him. Even in the darkness, he could tell the blonde's baby blue eyes were lit up and sparkling, watching his every movement.

"I'm fine."

"You're lying. I can tell," he retorted.

"What if I am?"

"I don't like other people being in pain," the blonde said as he sat down next to him. "Now, tell me what's wrong. You know I like to listen to you talk"

They had this strange relationship, him and Kenny. Ever since Kenny had befriended him on the first day he walked into South Park High, they had this ongoing struggle of who was who. They always fought constantly and never managed to get anything productive done. All they ever did was bicker back and forth. The only thing they had in common was the fact that they both were gay. Everything else, from the hair down to their toes, was different. Even their personalities were complete opposites of each other. Kenny was this beautiful, delicate creature, while he was just another teenage punk. They didn't belong together. They shouldn't be friends, yet they still managed to make it somehow or another. It was weird, but it was strangely befitting of them both.

Kenny was out of breath. He could tell by the way his chest kept moving rapidly up and down in quick, drastic movements. His blonde hair was messy and unkempt, no longer the beautiful glory it had been before. He was on the short and skinny side. Not exactly the biggest, most muscular guy out there, but what he lacked in size, he made up in personality and heart. He was cute too.

Craig looked into Kenny's eyes and answered in as serious a tone he could muster without bursting into unwanted tears, "My grandmother passed away last night."

He couldn't understand why he spilling his heart out to Kenny McCormick, but he did it anyway. Truth be told, there was a lot he'd been holding inside him for quite some time. There was a lot that needed to come off his chest and this was the way to do it, even if he needed to open up in order to do so.

Kenny didn't apologize for his lost. He didn't even say a simple "I'm sorry". Not a word passed his lips. He was finally silent.

The blonde looked at him in shock. His eyes wide and full of surprise. Instead of the initial first reaction he'd been expecting, Kenny opted to change the conversation to a different topic instead. It was gift from heaven.

"Well, I still don't think you should be out here smoking. Maybe you should come back inside. Then you can share a dance with me. I'm sure Kyle wouldn't mind," he said, sharing a discreet smile that blatantly said, 'I didn't change the subject because I'm a heartless bastard. I changed it because I knew you didn't want to talk about it anymore.' That one little smile said it all.

"You think I'm gay?" Craig asked with slight hostility.

"I know you are," Kenny smirked as he stood up, using the wall behind him as support, and held out his hand for him to take. Craig sighed, smiled, and took the offering anyway.

Being pulled up onto his feet, he noticed the slight height difference between him and Kenny. The blonde was just a tad bit shorter than he was. His head came up to his nose. All he would have to do, in order to steal a kiss, was to bend his neck slightly. He was so tempted to give into his desires. Kenny's mouth looked small and pouty and absolutely ravishing, especially in the low light given off by the street lamps. He was so tempted to just bend his head those couple centimeters and press his lips on Kenny's. He could practically taste the want in his veins.

But, Kenny interrupted his thinking process by opening that pretty little mouth and talking, completely ruining the moment.

"Come on."

Kenny took his hand in his, lacing their fingers together.

Even though the unsuspecting move came as a surprise, Craig kept his fingers intertwined with Kenny's. Something about the innocent action just felt right to him.

Before he could disagree, Kenny had dragged him onto the dance floor. Instructing him where he should put his hands, Kenny always seemed to strain in his impatience and talk to him in a civilized manner, even when the blonde looked about ready to burst in aggravation, especially since he always seemed to make a complete fool out of himself by messing up consequently.

"I'm no good at this," he admitted shamefully, dropping his hands from the blonde's waist. He shrugged his shoulders, "Dancing is just not me."

"It's not that difficult, Craig. All you have to do is sway back and forth," Kenny said as he took his hands again for the hundredth time and directed them back to his small waist. The blonde then wrapped his own arms around his neck and, using his hips, began moving them to the music. "See? It's not that hard."

He was right. Dancing wasn't all that bad; it was actually kind of nice in a way, especially if it was with somebody you liked. Gritting his teeth, he swore under his breath just low enough so that Kenny couldn't hear.

So maybe he was beginning to feel something for the blonde. Nothing was wrong with that. Right? But, concerning the circumstances and their somewhat steady friendship, it would be all kinds of wrong to make a move. Besides, Kenny wasn't supposed to be his type.

"This is kind of nice. Told you you'd get the hang of it," Kenny said, sticking his pink, and wet, tongue out at him from between his perfect rosy lips. Kenny smiled and stared at him with his intense baby blue eyes.

It was almost too good to miss.

"I agree," he said, and then he bent his head those few centimeters and lightly kissed him. It was short, but it sent the breath from his lungs and caused his heart to flutter miserably in his chest. It hurt, but it felt like a good kind of hurt. The kind he could get used to.


	5. Anger

Kyle

Kyle stood alone by the food tables, feeling awkward and out of place while he drank from a white plastic cup that contained a fruity pink substance. The punch failed to make his evening any better.

The music was bumping and excited couples dominated the dance floor, but all that only succeeded in making him feel worse. Kenny was missing and no amount of searching had been able to locate the blonde. Kyle has looked everywhere, but there wasn't a trace of the boy to be found.

Gulping down the last of the punch, he crinkled the empty cup into a round ball and tossed it into one of the neighboring trash cans. It flew over to the waste basket with ease and landed perfectly in the center of all the other trash.

"I still think you should try out for the team."

Stan walked up to him, his arms encircled around his girlfriend. Cheeks red from exertion and hair mussed from dancing, Wendy stood there beside the popular jock with a big fake smile on her face. Brown hair cascaded down her back in small curls, ending somewhere close to her waistline. She wore a simple dark blue dress that coincidentally matched the same color as Stan's tie.

They were the ultimate couple. Consecutively off and on since Jr. High, they've still been able to keep the relationship strong all these years. Somehow, Wendy overlooked the fact that Stan had a long history of cheating.

"Hey, Kyle," she said, laughing and out of breath. "We just came over to get some punch and say hello."

She was all smiles and giggles. Nothing seemed to ruin her good mood.

"Hey, babe. Why don't you go get some while I talk to Kyle for a minute?" Stan asked randomly, turning her around to look into her face. The look that passed his features was one of pure adoration and love. Whether it was real or fake, it gave of the right impression and caused Wendy to practically melt under his gaze.

"Sure."

They kissed and then she left, leaving the two boys alone. They stood in silence until Stan broke it rather brutally, "So you're Kenny's date tonight? I saw you guys walking in together."

His tone was rough and violent. This was a drastic change in character. It sent shivers down his spine. How could someone so composed and peaceful turn into something so ugly and monstrous in only a couple of seconds? It didn't make any sense to him.

Stan glared at him with dark blue eyes. They were lit up and shining with fury, drilling daggers through his soul. So much pent up aggression rolled off him in waves.

"I am. He asked me a few days ago," he answered the question coolly.

"Really now?"

"Yes."

"This is peculiar, because he told me personally that he wasn't going with anybody.

Stan circled around to stand adjacent to him; a stern expression plastered on his facial features. He looked devious and demented - dangerous even. Kyle took a step away from the ravenette in order to gain some of his personal space back.

"And when did he tell you this?" Kyle spoke when he acquired some bravery. His vocal chords still shook slightly, but he was still able to form the words and make the sounds he needed.

"That's none of your damn business, Broflovski," Stan smirked, which caused immediate anger to fill his own veins, which caused a surge of anger to overwhelm his being.

Vile emotions flared to life inside him. He had never hated someone as much as he did Stan right in that very moment. The guy just got under your skin, pushing all the right buttons and pulling on all the right nerves. Clenching his fists together, he eyed the ravenette with brutal distaste.

They may have been the best of friends in elementary school, but growing older, they eventually separated ways. It was easier than trying to hold onto a friendship that was just falling apart. They no longer belonged to the same crowd; they weren't friends. He had no reason to stop himself from punching the living daylights out of the bastard. And by the looks of it, nobody did either.

Catching onto the situation, Stan was quick to become defensive, "What are you going to do, Jew Boy? Hit me?"

He laughed only for the sole purpose of causing a scene. Stan had always been the one for spotlights. A few people nearby stopped to witness the blossoming chaos. They joined in on Stan's ridiculing.

Kyle's cheeks flamed a bright red; the color vaguely matched his hair. Nobody had called him names since they were children. Stan had been the one who had stood up to all his bullies and put an end to all the pointless taunting. But now that they were practically enemies, the rules no longer applied, especially when it came to everybody else criticizing and bullying him.

"Hey, look guys! We made Ginger blush! Awh. He's embarrassed!" the ravenette laughed again, basking in his new found glory.

"Stan! Stop this," Wendy yelled, pushing her way through the throng of people that urrounded both him and Stan. She carried two plastic cups in her hands, which had caused her to lose appeal, but she had grabbed everyone's undivided attention nonetheless. "This is ridiculous! You're all acting like children!"

"Honey-"

With Wendy there, Stan lost all dominating power. He was stuck between keeping all his supposed friends entertained and pleasing his girlfriend.

"Come on! Everybody, clear out! There's nothing to see here," Wendy spoke in a falsely sweet tone of voice while she waved her occupied hands in the general 'shooing' motion. Eventually, people began leaving. The only ones left were him, a pissed Wendy, and a dumbfounded Stan.

"Stan, how could you even stoop as low as to bully a friend? I thought you were beyond that. I obviously thought wrong!" Wendy said forcefully.

She shook her head and glared at her boyfriend. He, however, took the cowardly way out and hung his head, refusing the look her in the eyes like a puppy awaiting punishment, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know what got into me."

"You damn right you didn't!" She screeched. "Now, you apologize to Kyle for what you did."

"Wendy, that's not necessary," he contradicted.

"He's right. We aren't in preschool anymore," Stan joined in.

Wendy kept her gaze on the both of them; stern and completely serious.

"I'm being serious, guys. You used to be the best of friends. Now all I ever see you two do is fight. Now, apologize."

Defeated, Stan made the first move," Look, dude, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have started all this shit. It's better left alone and I should've realized that"

Even though he said all those apologetic words, he didn't look the least bit sorry. In fact, he looked smug.

"It's fine."

After he said his part, he was no longer obligated to stay, so he left in search for Kenny once again. This night just seemed to get better and better. Ugh.


	6. Realization

Craig

Kenny was the first one to break the kiss. The small blonde removed his lips from his and just stared at him. A look of complete shock etched on his face. Kenny silently brought his hand to his mouth where he used his forefinger to lightly trace the soft outline of his lips.

"Why did you do that?" He asked innocently.

Craig's face instantly flushed a strange reddish pink color. He had no logical reason behind that kiss.

"Uh."

His mind went blank and the only thought that crossed his mind was to flee. Music reverberated in his chest as he wordlessly attempted to explain himself. He couldn't communicate properly. He was speechless.

"You're not gay. Why would you kiss me?" Kenny inquired, subconsciously moving his short body closer to his own.

"I-I."

Nobody else seemed to notice his awkwardness or even his blushing cheeks. If Kenny did he never once mentioned it aloud. The blonde just stood there, demanding answers he couldn't give. There just weren't words to describe how he was feeling.

Kenny got closer; his clear blue eyes stared daggers into his own brown ones. He attempted to direct his attention elsewhere, but the blonde's eyes prevented him from doing so. Kenny held him at his mercy. He felt extremely vulnerable under that gaze. He was supposed to be the one in charge; the dominant one.

A concentrated and determined look crossed Kenny's face, which automatically caused him to become intrigued. Wondering what was going on in that blonde head of his, he cautiously asked.

"What are you thinking about, Kenny?"

"Uh. Nothing important."

He still had that look in his eyes; mischievous and nocuous. Almost as if he was trying to figure something out.

He was dying to know.

"Tell me, Kenny. I want to know," he said, on the verge of pleading.

"Can I show you instead?"

Almost immediately, the blonde encircled his fragile arms around his shoulders. He automatically clasped his own around the Kenny's narrow waits. They both stared deeply into each other's eyes, taking in the moment that was unraveling right before them. He felt his cheeks flush a deeper red when he realized how close they were. He was supposed to be acting like the dominate one, yet here he was being all submissive and girly.

Kenny's blue eyes darted towards his lips, and then he slowly brought his own to his and pressed a light, but firm chaste kiss on them.

"What was that for?" he breathed; his heart beating a mile a minute.

"I wanted to know if it was a dream or not," Kenny confessed, blushing lightly.

"And what did you find out?"

"It wasn't."

"How?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Because you didn't push me away"


	7. New Direction

**Kyle**

Kyle was beginning to grow more and more impatient with each passing minute. Kenny had forced this arrangement on him, and now, as soon as they were supposed to hang out as a couple, he completely vanishes. Furious, he continued the skim the crowd for the notorious blonde, but he caught no sign of him. Kyle was starting to lose hope he would ever find his date.

This was so pathetic and he knew it. He couldn't even keep track of his own date! Sighing, he began walking to the bathroom. Maybe Kenny was in there.


	8. Scare Tactic

****Okay, so this chapter contains sexual content. Actually Stan attempts to rape Kenny, but he doesn't exactly get to that point. If you think you can't handle this, you may skip this chapter and continue on with the next one. Just take notice that Craig finds Kenny and saves him****

**Kenny**

After kissing Craig, he got the sudden urge to go the bathroom. Excusing himself from the dance floor and giving Craig one last lingering kiss, he headed towards the restroom, but on his way, he was intercepted. Kenny looked up and stared into Stan's cold dark blue eyes; they were twinkling mischievously. Small dots of light from the dance floor could be seen sparkling in then. The dark, haughty ravenette stood there obviously blocking his way to the restroom, knowingly attempting to frighten Kenny, who gulped noisily and chanced speaking civilly to the older teen.

"Uh. Hello, Stan."

"Don't talk. I like you better when you're silent," the taller teenager spoke harshly, smirking.

An unknown fear began to grip his insides when he spotted that devilish smile. He took a step back, attempting to escape, but Stan caught on pretty quick and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back and up against him. He fell against the tough chest. almost gagging on a mouthful of Stan's hearty cologne. His face was pressed against the hard material of Stan's suit jacket; the ravenette's corsage digging into the side of his cheek.

"Kenny, you've been such a dirty nasty boy," Stan taunted as he hugged him closer, petting his head and running his thick fingers through Kenny's soft hair..

"What do you mean?" he gasped.

"Bringing Kyle as your date? Kissing Craig like a desperate lover? You're such a slut, Kenny. A dirty, nasty, naughty slut. Do you like being known as a whore?" The ravenette whispered, his fingers squeezing Kenny's head a slight fraction of a second before releasing the strong hold for a more safe stroking. "Do you not understand, Kenny? You're mine."

Kenny gasped as he took in the other teen's intense words.

Struggling against the other's hold, he tried once again to get away, but all it did was cause Stan to tighten his grip on him.

"Let me go. I don't want this."

"But you wanted it all those times before. What happened?" Stan said, his mouth right next to his ear, sending tingles down his spine. And not the good kind.

"Only because you made me, Stan. I thought you didn't like me anymore. You said so yourself that I was boring and uninteresting," Kenny protested; his voice muffled by Stan's jacket. He closed his eyes, vaguely making out the deep thudding of Stan's heartbeat. It was thick and heavy. He could hardly believe somebody so monstrous could have such a mesmerizing and beautiful heart.

"I was wrong, baby So wrong. Seeing you walk through those double doors with that Ginger did things to me. I-I can't explain it. It made me want you again," Stan breathed in his ear. Uncontrollable shivers ran down his spine, causing him to shake uncontrollably in the other's arms.

"But I don't want you."

"Yes, you do!" The ravenette growled, resisting to realize the truth. He shoved him against the wall and pinned him down with his unimaginable weight. Squirming, he tried to push him off and away, but it was of no use. Stan was bigger than him.

The wall was hard concrete, which in his current position, rubbed against him uncomfortably. Stan pressed into him forcefully as he brought his mouth to Kenny's neck. He quickly disposed of his suit jacket and began unbuttoning the shirt underneath. About halfway through, he gave up, and just pushed the rest of the garment away to reveal soft pale skin. The ravenette began sucking softly at the exposed patch of flesh, biting and nipping away.

Stan tasted his flesh between perfect straight white teeth, rolling his tongue over certain nerves. Kenny braced himself against the wall and tried to push him away, but failed miserably.

He was a victim to Stan's advances.

"Stan, please stop," he cried out, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

Stan's only response was a moan, breathless and needy.

He could feel Stan's hot and heavy breath flowing in harsh waves against his earlobe and the erection that he was sporting from between his legs.

"I love seeing you so vulnerable, Kenny."

"Just leave me alone. That's all I want," he shouted.

He closed his eyes and wished with all his heart that Stan would just go away and leave him be.

"Kenny?" a curious voice, quiet and wondering, spoke to his left.

He turned his head to the source of the noise and noticed a slight silhouette in the darkness. Hope welled in his chest when he realized that the silhouette belonged to Craig, who was standing at the opening of the little hallway.

"I'm here, Craig!" he called, raising his voice so Craig could hear him. Oh, how he hoped Craig had heard him.


	9. Rescue

**Craig**

Checking his watch for the time, Craig realized it had been about fifteen minutes since Kenny had left for the bathroom. Certainly, it didn't take that long for the blonde to pee. Curious, he decided to go and look for Kenny himself. He wanted to make sure he was okay.

When he reached the doorway to the hall leading to the restrooms, he noticed a thick surrounding darkness. Almost as if somebody had purposely turned off all the lights.

Then he heard the sound of male moaning and rubbing cloth and instantly became alarmed. Calling for Kenny's name, he searched the dark for Kenny. What he saw, however how vague the details were, sickened him to no extent.

Kenny was being pinned up against the wall by a big demeaning figure. The attacker was busy divulging the side of Kenny's neck - almost like an animal devouring its prey. The sounds he was making were heavy and loud, further depicting the guy as an animal.

Kenny was so vulnerable in the state he was he. A lump formed in his throat and he forced his limbs into action. Running as fast as he legs would take him, he collided with the figure harassing Kenny, knocking him to the ground. He fell, letting out an animalistic groan as he hit the cold hard tile.

The only other thing that occurred to him at that moment was to dive into his instincts and beat the living shit out of the dude. Without thinking, he formed his hand into a clenched fist, and mustering all the strength he could, punched the guy straight in the face. Attempting to connect with his face again, harder this time, he brought his other fist up and was about to hit him again, when small hands began to hold him back.

"C'mon, Craig. Let's go. There's no reason to fight him. That's just more drama then I feel up to coping with right now. Can we just go?" Kenny spoke, breaking the heavy silence.

He looked and stared into the blonde's eyes, noticing the slight way his they seemed distracted and weary.

"Okay," Craig said; disappointed, He stood up and dusted his clothes off with his hands. "Who is this guy anyway?"

"Stan Marsh," Kenny answered; his voice slightly shaky.

Once glance at the Kenny's direction revealed blonde's appearance - awry and ruffled. His hair was fluffy and sticking up at the back of his head, creating a disheveled image.

He took his foot and kicked the guy, who was still moaning on the floor, hard against his ribs. Not hard enough for them to break, but hard enough to cause them to be sore for a few weeks. Immediately, the figure rolled over, clutching his chest and groaning in pain.

"The guy who always used to pick on you for being gay?"

"Yeah," Kenny shook his head yes.

His blue eyes were still distant and forlorn.

"You alright?" He asked; a slight sympathetic tone lacing his voice.

He walked closer to the small boy and wrapped his arms around his frail and weak shoulders. He pulled the boy into a light hug, resting his mouth against the boy's left ear, "Hey, calm down. I promise that monster will never touch you again. I give you my word."

He rubbed gentle circles into the blonde's lower back, attempting to bring some life back into the lifeless and unfeeling boy.

"Thank you, Craig," Kenny spoke softly, letting himself fall victim to Craig's embrace.


	10. Happy Ending

**Craig**

"What's going on here?" he yelled vehemently to the two cuddling teenagers. The anger and frustration he'd been feeling all evening welled up inside him. He was almost on the breaking point.

He took in the complete scene.

Stan was laying facedown on the floor in a fetal position, seemingly unconscious, while Craig Tucker and Kenny played lovebirds above him.

"Kyle," Kenny screeched, breaking out of Craig's hold and running towards him. His hair was disheveled and his shirt was unbuttoned partway. He gave off all the obvious signs.

"No. Don't touch me," he said, staring into Kenny's innocent baby blue eyes. Those eyes weren't innocent; they were deceivers. "How could you?"

"How could I do what? I didn't-"

"How could you demand for me to be your date and then go off gallivanting with other guys in dark unsupervised hallways?! No wonder I couldn't find you! I looked everywhere for you and I couldn't find you anywhere! Who would've ever guessed that the reason behind your disappearance was Craig!"

Kenny stopped right in his tracks and just stared, unblinking. Tears welled up at the edges of his blue eyes, threatening to fall at any moment.

"Kyle, it's not what it looks like," Craig said, coming to Kenny's rescue. He seemed sincere. His brown eyes showed kindness and truth, as did Kenny's but they were both well known liars.

"It's always what it looks like, Craig!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, furious. Then he directed his attention back to Kenny. "I looked everywhere for you and I couldn't find you! I thought something may have happened to you! I was worried sick!"

"I'm sorry," he said, bending his head to look at the ground, apparently ashamed to show his face.

"And the worst part is that I knew about your reputation, but I overlooked that. Thought maybe it was just a rumor, but I guess I thought wrong, because you proved everything so blatantly well tonight. You're nothing but a whore."

"Now that's taking it too far!" Craig said, beginning to intervene before Kenny stopped him by grabbing him by the arm, halting any further action.

"No. Let him go on."

"No, it's okay. I have nothing more to say to you," he spoke, spitting venom out of his mouth. "I have no more patience for scum like you."

"I'm sorry," he said again, true compassion coating his voice,

"Sorry doesn't always cut it, Kenny. It takes more than that."

Then he turned around and walked in the opposite direction, away from the unconscious body. the tear streaked blonde, and the fury-filled brunette.

He knew he shouldn't have come to prom.


End file.
